like watercolours blooming

A space for play is necessary. Without it, people tend to be slightly stunted. Adulthood could be just as wonderful as childhood was, still have a sense of adventure and curiousity and joy.

That is the great thing that Meryl Streep is able to capture in Julie & Julia: joy. She played a woman so in love with life, with living well and goodnaturedly. It's rare magic to see such a peaceful and boisterous performance.

We must get back to these simple pleasures. Well, I guess I must, but I think it might be a better place if people were more wonderous, more curious, more joyous.

But adults are so keen to be adults, piling on pressures and losing that sense of life being special, magical. I want more magic.

More sunsets, especially the kind after big rains when the sky goes pink.

You and I haven't been in love for so long

It's been a while.

Yes, since you and I have have done the tango, blinking bar. I'm not sure if you're trying to entice or intimidate – eventually I'll figure that out, and the more we dance, the easier it is to keep time with your bleating footfalls.

On top of that, wearing new shoes! Learning new steps! Recognizing these new horizons!

Don't worry – we'll be swirling together before long, I suspect.

I Feel Evil Creeping In

I saw The Dark Knight opening night in a vain attempt to view the film with some degree of objectivity. I avoided movie reviews, but it's hard to enter a film like this without preconceived notions. The hype's been swirling for months now, and going in, I have to admit feeling a certain degree of reluctance - I was sure it was going to be a great fucking ride, but I wasn't going to make it easy to win me over. I felt similarly seeing Batman Begins, which completely surpassed expectations, so I say the following without guilt.

If you liked the tack taken with Batman Begins, you'll be satisfied with the darkness Nolan steeps Gotham in here. This is still a city run by the bad guys, where the good guys fight half-heartedly, knowing that even their best bet is operating in a system that routinely gives them the short shrift. This is still the Gotham on the brink of descending into chaos, but not quite there yet - with the mob still controlling things, the city is run by a law that chokes the actual law at every turn, but has its own order. This is the Gotham that needs Batman, if only to give the good guys a fighting chance, but he certainly isn't one of them. Batman has a gray niche all carved out for himself, keeping himself at arms length from Gordon and the new DA, Harvey Dent, and fighting crime by subverting the stealth the mobsters usually reserve for their interactions. It's a tenuous situation, but at film's open, Right is gaining ground over Wrong, inch by inch.

Into the fray, enter anarchy.

This Joker is exactly what the Joker should always have been depicted as - delighting in debasing people, sadistically twisting the knife wherever possible, overturning the status quo. He is given more lingering screen time as the film progresses, in a fantastic move on Nolan's part; the beginning, where he's just a lunatic but the mob's best shot at getting the Bat, gradually gives way to lengthier interactions with central characters. Perhaps the most frightening aspect of this is how it exposes how unbelievably sane he is. He shows perfect clarity in understanding his place in that system, as an agent of change, and as Batman's foil. I particularly liked how the story of his scars changed every time he told it - he is a man without history, and he's emerged because he's had to. The theatre laughed when the Joker mockingly says that Batman "completes him", but this is the Joker at his most plainly spoken. Batman emerged as a scourge of the underworld, taking two steps ahead of the status quo in order to give good a fighting chance. In doing so, however, in donning a costume and a moniker, in becoming a symbol, there can only have been an equal and opposite reaction. In opening the door to masked crusaders, he only opened it wider for masked villains, also stepping up their game. By refusing to play by the rules, Batman has created a villain willing to throw all of the rules in the pile and burn them with the rest of the world. And he knows that in order for the Joker to be truly, finally stopped, Batman will have to break his only rule - to not kill - but in that, would be giving the final point to the Joker, who will have debased the only order left in the name of good.

That praise being said, this is not a flawless film. This is not the film the hype made it out to be.

This is a long film. I understand there's a tendency in Hollywood not to cut all of those lovely, expensive scenes that were filmed, but ultimately, we are left with films bogged down by their own weight - an action movie should not forget what its ultimate goal should be. I laud the filmmakers for making a film that gazes at its navel from time to time, because that is certainly a step above even the best of purely action films (such as Ironman), but superfluous storylines do not a stronger movie make. I can easily think of a storyline that should have been cut (involving Hong Kong, for those who have seen it), and would have resulted in a much tighter film overall. In addition to that, Maggie Gyllenhaal was just as fucking wooden as Katie Holmes, which so frustrating as I'm a big fan of hers. And, perhaps the most worrisome, was how little I cared for the characters. There were some exceptions; Aaron Eckhart did a fantastic job (and I was pleasantly surprised to see much of Harvey Dent pre-Two-Face), and Ledger was unbelievably fun to watch onscreen. I agree that it was truly a shame he died so young, and it's pretty clear here how talented he was, but this talk of an Oscar for this role would be a joke - the Academy missed their chance with his breathtaking performance in Brokeback Mountain.

But back to my original point, I cared more about the supporting characters than I did our leading man. Christian Bale carried the mantle of Batman well enough, but he wasn't given the opportunity to make the audience truly care about how the trials were affecting him. The only time we're let in enough to see something genuine is in the interrogation scene with the Joker, and even then, he's playing second-fiddle to Ledger's utter domination in every scene he was in. Perhaps the next film will allow for Bale to flex his own formidable acting chops.

So, overall, this is definitely worth your 12$. While it may be a longer than it should be and lacks the emotional depth I'd have preferred, the questions it forces you to examine about what Batman is for the people he protects are far above and beyond what any comic-book adaptation has been able to bring to its audience. Nolan has created, in his Batman franchise, movies that take its audience seriously enough to present them with the complexities inherent in every battle between good and evil, especially when Batman is the straddler in question.

3.9 out of 5 (edited to bump it up from 3.5)

but a hero never turns around

So guess who finally learned how to use her scanner.












Merry Christmas.

Amanda

and on the north pole, i'll ice you son

I will admit to having a soft spot for children’s fantasy.

Perhaps it was because I loved the escapism of different magical worlds growing up; perhaps because it was one of the few genres that didn’t talk down to me. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never really changed from that little kid who thought that a world without magic was really boring, and books about babysitting and suburban mystery solving didn’t always cut the mustard. Regardless, Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series has definitely been a modern darling of the genre. It possesses the greatest qualities of the epic fantasy while operating in a wholly realized and realistic world. On top of this, Pullman’s aim is clear: an unabashed atheist, he uses his fictional world of dæmons and reigning polar bears to challenge the conventions of Western Christianity. Operating in a genre typically modeled by the promotion of these ideas, Pullman is able to indulge in the recognizable fantasy form while subverting the very ideals that helped found it. And that’s just plain sexy.

My hard-on for Pullman aside, The Golden Compass, first of the trilogy, is the introduction into his world. It serves to set the stage for Lyra Belacqua, a charmingly bright girl, her curiosity matched only by her ability to talk her way into and out of any situation. Unsurprisingly, she becomes the keeper and sole reader of the Aletheiometer, the titular golden compass, which allows her to know the truth of any question asked. Of course, there are bad guys, in the form of the Magisterium, an omnipotent sort of government/church that tells people what to do. And of course, they kidnap children and perform horrible experiments on them, as any good evil corporation is prone to doing. There are witches and polar bear kingdom wars and all sorts of good stuff of the fantastical kind.

And to be perfectly honest, the film does a great job of capturing the story. While I didn’t feel as engrossed as I did reading the book, we were definitely in the same neighbourhood. Chris Weitz’s Oxford felt every bit as real as Pullman’s did. I know a lot of fans of the story were upset that the overtly religious tones were removed from the story, thus sterilizing it a bit, but it’s an understandable change; this is a Hollywood film, and ultimately, some folks are hoping to net a bit of cash, and blatantly pissing on a large demographic probably won’t help in that goal. And the themes are still there for those savvy folk (which gives me the sick delight in knowing at least some of those wholly opposed to Pullman’s point will set up movie fanpages in the near future, blissfully unaware). And the film really has enough going on to support having only a subtle nod – that theme is there for those who wish to see it.

The polar bears looked fantastic, and man, did I love hearing Ian McKellen voicing Iorek. Nicole Kidman is at her finest here, her icy demeanor less overt than Tilda Swinton’s Jadis, yet much more chilling; her motivations are far more tender than a mere appetite for power, and this lends her actions a far deeper resonance. Newcomer Dakota Blue Richards is pitch perfect as Lyra, her sauciness balancing her naiveté quite well. Plus, she looks SO MUCH like Lyra. This is like when the Harry Potter people were lucky to find Daniel Radcliffe, but audiences don’t have to sit through 4 films of terrible acting before seeing a decent protagonist onscreen.

And boy, was it pretty. I loved the effect of the Dust, particularly when daemons were snuffed out. It was a lovely addition to the fight scenes, as I do love my fight scenes with sparkly sugar frostings. The use of Dust in the Aletheiometer scenes was also great, as it was able to capture layers of meaning the device is described as possessing. Every now and then, the polar bears reminded me of Coca Cola commercials, but that just shows how effective that campaign was, if anything.

But honestly? It left me cold. And I think it was because it just reminded me of so many movies I’ve seen before. The futuristic cars in Oxford looked straight out of Episode 1: The Phantom Menace, the music sounded like the composer had listened to a bit too much Harry Potter, and the witches were a little too stylistically Arwen. And that was SO distracting. I felt like this film was too busy referencing a bunch of great fantasy epics that came before it that it completely lost its own sense of style.

And hell, I get it Weitz: your biggest hit to date was American Pie. Sure, About a Boy was good, but what if that was a fluke? You WERE responsible for Down to Earth, starring Chris Rock, of all unsavoury characters. If I were Weitz and were pegged to direct a great fantasy epic, you bet your ass I’d be watching the extended Lord of the Rings and jotting down pointers.

This is small criticism compared to the many great feats of workmanship on display here. And I was anticipating this movie with baited breath, so maybe my expectations were a little high. And I’ve seen far too many movies. I was anticipating something truly spectacular, worthy of Pullman’s fantastic writing. So while The Golden Compass is surely no Narnia, it comes pretty close, and deserves at least one theatre viewing (because just WAIT until you see that bear fight).

3.7 jigglypuffs out of 5

Amanda

when the sun shines, we'll shine together

Days like this remind me I ought to be living in London.

Working in the mall, you tend to be cut off from the outside world. I have no windows to key me to weather cues, so I guess based on people's hair. Rain is easy. Snow slightly more difficult. Wind is generally pretty entertaining. Sunshine is virtually undetectable. I thrive on bad weather, if only because it adds interest to my very bland consumerism-based day.

Also, customers LOVE to discuss weather. This may be because the majority of my customers are elderly, but regardless. I've had so many people tell me how horrible the weather is, how terrible it's made their mood, how they just want to go home and curl up under some blankets and cry themselves to sleep because mygodwhywon'ttherainjuststop??.

I walked home. And I rather enjoyed it.

I'm one of those freaks who genuinely enjoys the rain, assuming I'm somewhat prepared for it. If I'm armed with an umbrella, walks in the rain are some of my favourite walks. I'm also one of those freaks who genuinely enjoys walks, so just imagine that: rain walks top MY list of favourite walks. Suck on that, weather-complainers.

On a related note, be nice to your umbrella. I hate that old wives' tale about opening umbrellas indoors, because doesn't your umbrella deserve some warmth? Doesn't it try its very hardest to keep you dry after you've dragged it from its slumber indoors? Doesn't it suffer enough abuse from the wind, trying to bend your poor comrade's spokes? And on top of all of this, does it also have to deal with some superstitions about how "unlucky" it is? Your umbrella has been through enough today. So let it fucking lie open while it dries. Have some compassion.

Amanda

and I feel my finger on your trigger

I feel like I'm always waiting for something more. When I blog, I feel that it's a substitution for something else. Something more important. Something I'm lacking. And so, I am left with a collection of vague, brief summaries of my life of late. As I'm sure you've noticed, my life as of late has been somewhat less than stellar; certainly not terrible, but lacking anything of substance, which is probably why I lack the motivation to write anything but brief summaries. And those feel done out of obligation, to myself; I still need to convince myself that I'm a writer. Writers write, so I write subpar summaries that lack any sort of depth.

And why? Why am I scared of writing? Well, as for the blog, it's a very public forum. I intend to share my thoughts, but doing so can end up hurting others (as has happened in the past), and ends up hurting me. I'm a private person. I get so, am so caught up in self-preservation that I end up editing myself before the sentence is even typed, before the words leave my mouth. I'm tired of being afraid to be wrong, and I'm tired of swallowing words that should be said, because I know that I have things to say that are important. I have stories that have been told, but never before by me. And the fear of being uncreative has made me stagnant; I'm not doing anything because I'm afraid that if I do something and it's not very good, I'll break that fragile idea I have of myself as a creator, as a writer.

So I'm making a decision not to do that anymore. And it's a hard thing to decide, because I know I'm a lazy person, but I know I also use that as an excuse. I know that this is possibly the most important thing I have decided for myself, which may sound a little of an exaggeration, but if you think that, I suppose you've never felt the frustration of distancing yourself from that thing that really truly turns you on.

Things I know: I know that I miss the feeling of getting so throughly engrossed in what I'm writing that hours go by and I don't even notice. I know I miss the thrill of crafting something that is surprisingly, genuinely good, and the pride I feel in my own work. I know I miss creating. I know I miss words, and the way that I used to feel some of them burrow their way under my skin, and I miss when the burrowing words were my own.

This could mean more posting, but it will probably mean less. I'm also tired of promising to post more and then not doing it, or then doing it, and not writing anything interesting for either anyone reading or myself. But know that even though I'm not writing here, I am writing.

Amanda